“Two years.” She looks away, reaches to a glossy cabinet on the wall with no handle, pushes it to pop it open. She takes bedsheets from the shelves and drops them onto my new bed. Then she stamps on my bed with her big leather boots again and jumps to the floor, where she busies herself with the sheets. I try to help her, but she waves me off, talking as she goes. I can sense it’s easier for her to be busy while telling me her story.
“My family threw me out of the house when I was branded Flawed. Dad said, ‘You’re no daughter of mine.’” She puts on a deep voice and pretends to make fun of the situation, but it’s no laughing matter. “He had my bags packed when I got home from school one day. He walked me out to the taxi while Mom watched from the window. He gave me enough cash for a week and that was it.” Her eyes are distant. “I lived on the street for one year as a fully fledged Flawed. Then I started to hear about these evaders, these magical people who were able to live without having to report to Whistleblowers, without the Guild breathing down their necks. I always thought it was a myth, that evaders were like fairies, but they turned out to be true. I came here finally. Best thing that ever happened to me.”
My eyes widen and I realize how lucky I am to have a family that supported me all the way through. And what my poor granddad is going through now to protect me.
“What did you do?” I ask.
“I spent a year doing this and that, following the rules, doing what I was told by my Whistleblower, but then I got tired of that—it wasn’t for me. I couldn’t get a job; I couldn’t get work, so I couldn’t pay rent. Moved around some homeless shelters. I can tell you it’s bad being Flawed with a roof over your head; you can imagine what it’s like without one.” Her eyes glisten. “So I made a decision and came here,” she replies, eyes back to me.
“What did you do to become Flawed?”
Her tears disappear immediately, her eyes darken, and I learn the first rule of being Flawed. Never ask a Flawed person how they became Flawed.
SIXTEEN
I WAKE UP in the cabin to a nightmare, as usual. They haunt me. I’m always on the run from Crevan. Sprinting, leaping over walls, but I’m never fast enough, it’s like I’m on a treadmill, running and running but not getting anywhere. It’s exhausting and it continues all night, like it’s on a loop. The only difference between this nightmare and every other night is a new addition: my granddad being tortured in the Branding Chamber.
Sweating and panting in the early hours of the morning, I sit bolt upright. I need to speak to Dahy. Even more urgently, I need to call home; I need to know what’s going on.
Morning light streams in through the window of the cabin, and when I look up I see that Mona has left her bed. Probably gone to work. I check my watch and can’t believe that it’s midday.
There’s a knock on the door.
I wrap myself in the bedsheet, lifting it to cover the brand over my heart, and open the door.
“Hi,” Carrick says, swiftly looking me up and down, and his eyes on me send goose bumps rising on my skin. “Brought you this.” He hands me a steaming mug of coffee and a chocolate muffin. “I’m on a break from my shift.”
“I can’t believe I’ve slept this long.”
“You needed it.” He looks at me intensely. “You’ve had a tough time.”
I cup my hand around the mug and feel the warmth. “Thank you.”
“The others wanted me to tell you to come to the rec room when you’re ready. Most of them are on a lunch break; they want to show you something. Don’t look so worried.” He offers a rare smile.
“Okay, I’ll be there soon. Carrick … you found your parents!” I grin at him, in celebration.
“I know,” he says awkwardly, face scrunched up in thought. “It’s weird. It’s new. It’s been only a few weeks. I barely know them. But they know me—my mom, more so; it’s like she knows everything about me and I know nothing about her.”
“It’s bound to be weird. I was only in the castle for a few days, and when I went back home it felt different.”
It was odd with my sister, Juniper, the entire time; we didn’t get along at all and made up moments before I escaped from the house. She admitted to feeling guilty for not standing beside me on the bus, for not speaking out in court. Bizarrely, she felt jealous because, despite my punishment, she felt I’d done the right thing and she hadn’t. I also discovered she was Art’s accomplice in helping him to hide, when I desperately wanted to see him more than anything in the world. So much of what happened between us during those weeks was all due to lack of communication.
“I think when things happen to you, it can … alienate you from people,” I say quietly. I think of my experience of going back to school and having no friends, being excluded from classes by teachers, being captured and locked in a shed by school kids, the end of my relationship with Art. Everything shifted; everything changed, nothing for the better.
He looks at me intensely. “But what happened to us didn’t alienate us from each other, did it?” he asks.
I don’t even need to think about it. “No.”
“It brought us together,” he says.
“Yes.” I smile shyly.
He nods. “See you in the rec room. Make sure you come the route Mona showed you; we don’t want anyone else seeing you here.”
I close the door, my body brimming with energy just from standing next to him, though I feel a little shot down by his parting comment. I use the shower in the cabin and dress quickly, knowing everybody is waiting for me. As I open the door, I come face-to-face with a knuckle, which at first I think is aiming to punch me and so I squeal and duck.
When nothing happens and the feet haven’t kicked me or run away and are just shuffling in my eyeline, I uncover my head from my hands and slowly look up.
A young man stands there, his fist still in the air, and he’s looking at me, startled. “I was just about to knock on the door.”
“Oh! Oh. Right.” I clamber to my feet, feeling mortified.
“Sorry for scaring you,” he says, embarrassed, as his cheeks start to go the brightest red I’ve ever seen on a human being. “I’m Leonard,” he says, eyes on the floor, on the wall, on the door, flitting everywhere but on me. “I work here.” He fumbles with the pass around his neck and offers it through the gap in the door. Leonard Ambrosio, Lab Technician. He looks like a choirboy.
“Hi, Leonard,” I say, widening the gap a bit.
I’m afraid he recognizes me, but because he’s in this unit, does that mean he’s Flawed, too? Can I trust him? Do his eyes narrow a little as he processes me? My name and face are all over the media. Is it the end for me?
“I’m sorry to disturb you; I know you’re new here. My girlfriend used to sleep in this room.” He looks around as though he’s more nervous to be here than me. “Her name is Lizzie.”
I tense up. This is the boyfriend who doesn’t like Flawed.
He looks at me expectantly.